


A Lord's Invitation

by crookedneighbour



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Finger Sucking, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Rape, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 17:43:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2278848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedneighbour/pseuds/crookedneighbour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lord's invitation is not refused. </p><p>Reek takes commands from two of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lord's Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> I started this ages ago and edited it up. I'll be working on the next two chapters sometime soon.

When Roose had asked for Theon, Ramsay had grabbed him by the arm. His eyes flared with jealousy, and his large body twitching in anger. Reek had insisted there was no one by that name any more. It did not help.

_"If you tell him anything, I'll feed you your own entrails before having you suck my cock.”_

As Reek stood shivering in the cold of Roose's quarters, he was cut apart in a series of quick eye movements. Roose never needed knives for that. He had his eyes. Grey and unyielding, they flicked over Reek's body with the same dispassion of a maester.

“Ramsay’s been starving you again,” he noted flatly. Lord Roose Bolton never asked questions. It was his way, the old way. He had named it that to Reek. Reek remembered someone’s mother (not his mother —never his mother) saying that she once thought all northern men were like him.

“He’s treated me as I deserve, my lord. No more no less,” answered Reek, looking down. If he looked up he might start stuttering. Roose didn’t like stuttering. He had never said as much, but he could feel it. Besides, if someone heard him stutter, one of the servants, they might think he was complaining. What if they told Ramsay he was complaining? His Ramsay wouldn’t like that.

Reek studied the room quickly, no servants. The quarters had the same stiff severity about them, as the man himself. His desk was dark and tidy, letters strictly sorted to the right hand side.

A tiny motion fluttered over Lord Bolton again.

Reek winced as Roose reached for him, bracing himself for the imminent pain that came with human contact. His palm was planted firmly against Reek’s cheek, while his lean fingers climbed up his cheek, but it did not hurt. The gesture was hardly warm, the calloused skin rubbing oddly against the remaining patches of stubble, but considering the man it was almost a kindness.

Almost.

Roose’s thumb dug into Reek’s cheek as he directed his gaze back to his. Ice again-- as if daggers cut through him, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest.

“What have I told you about my title?” asked Roose, his voice cold and flat.

He had forgotten his Lord’s name. He had forgotten his name.

_Reek, Reek, it rhymes with cheek._

“I.. I… I’m sorry mi’lord,” stuttered Reek. He began to shake as Roose stared him down.

The pain grew sharper, long throbs pulsing through him, as Lord Bolton further forced his thumb into the soft of Reek’s face. What if he bruised? What if Ramsay saw the bruise? Would he take the skin for displeasing or giving into his Lord father?

Roose’s left hand, rested itself on top of Reek’s head, his long fingers entwining with the few thin hairs that remained. Roose showed no signs of stopping, his face and body void of anything.

“Please mi’lord. Lord Ramsay-- your son--” pleaded Reek, the tears begun to start again. Lord Ramsay wouldn’t want to flay his Reek’s face, but he’d have to. He’d have to punish his Reek for infuriating his father.

“You mean my bastard...” Roose said, trailing off.

“Your bastard-- Yes, Lord Bolton-- Please…” Reek whispered, his voice a prayer now. He had given up on prayer though.

The pain stopped, but not the contact. Roose’s thumb drifted to jut below Reek’s lower lip, his nails grazing the sensitive skin there.

“Thank you, mi’lord, thank you,” added Reek, the tears continuing to roll down his face. He was safe. Lord Ramsay would never know and he was safe. He placed his lips softly against Roose’s thumb, grateful for the mercy. A good servant gives his Lord thanks. That was one of the Dreadfort’s first lessons.

Reek looked up as his lips were still pressed against Lord Bolton’s thumb, waiting for Roose to end the gesture. He didn’t.

Lord Bolton looked dangerous again. The hard lines in his face, and expectation in his eyes were all pointed at Reek. Yet it was even more than he knew. There existed something deep and more sinister, then he could describe, an apathy and inhumanity beyond even Ramsay.

Roose pressed at Reek again, forcibly parting his lips. The blood rushed to his face. Serve and obey _._ He couldn’t refuse Lord Bolton this.

“It will be fine, my prince.”

Roose was almost inaudible, but his words gave Reek an odd sense of both comfort and dread.

The grip on his hair tightened, and two slender fingers wormed further into his mouth. Reek knew what he was supposed to do. Lord Ramsay had done similar things many a night, shoving his thick fingers down Reek’s throat until he gagged and choked. That was only the warm up though. Lord Roose would want him to finish things. He’d want Reek to-

Reek pushed the thought from his mind as he began to swirl his tongue over Lord Bolton’s fingertips and gently suck. _Serve and obey. My name is Reek._ _Serve and obey._

The bulge in Lord Bolton’s throat bobbed up and down in his throat, but there was little else for show of enjoyment. Reek drew his tongue and lips from the base of Lord Bolton’s digit to the very tip of the finger, sucking harder as his tongue flicked back forth.

Still Roose did not change. Reek reached for Lord Bolton’s hands, desperately tugging his fingers further into his mouth. Lord Ramsay liked it when his Reek begged. He made the same ugly laugh, whenever Reek pleaded to be fingered and fucked deeper. He could only hope it pleased his father as well. If Reek pleased him, he might not tell Ramsay.

Roose yanked his hair a bit, and began to guide Theon’s head with more force now. With silence besides the two of them, the room quickly filled with breathy slurping noises as Reek struggled to pleasure his lord. When Roose finally drew back his fingers, a thin trail of saliva hung from them, which he then wiped off on Reek’s dirty cheek.

On being pushed to his knees, Reek knew what it was time for. The floor chilled his bare calves, but Reek ignored it. He didn’t know what Lord Bolton would do if he looked away. He couldn’t fail now.

As Reek loosened his lord's belt trousers, the man gave him an uncharacteristic pat on the head, tussling his hair as one might a child. The leather of his belt was word and soft to the touch. It would likely still hurt as a lash.

Lord Bolton was not fully erect, but Reek had been taught enough ways to remedy that. Instead of taking Roose fully into his mouth right away, he placed a trail of hungry wet kisses down the length of his shaft. As Roose stiffened completely, Reek wrapped his lips around the head of his cock, his head bobbing softly with each motion.

Reek winched his eyes shut as hard as he could, yet he could still feel Lord Bolton’s eerie gaze on him. Roose would protect him, he had to.

Roose used a gentler hand now, occasionally nudging Reek’s head slightly further down his length. He exhaled deeply through his nose, trying not to gag with the Lord’s deepening thrusts.

Whenever his mouth became to salty to bear, Reek gulped it down as best he could. It felt like a lump growing in his stomach. Minutes dragged on as he ministered to Roose's wants, it felt like an eternity, each violation pushing his tongue against the floor of his mouth. Though his reason told him it was only a few mintutes, it felt aeons before Lord Bolton did speak.

“Faster. When the time comes you will swallow,” he ordered, his spidery voice a bit more hoarse than usual.

Reek complied with all the eagerness he could muster. As he increased his speed, spittle and fluid began to dribble from his mouth while Lord Bolton let out a quiet noise somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. His nails dug into Reek’s scalp. A few jagged thrusts and Reek could feel the shudder and release of Lord Bolton’s climax in his mouth.

He swallowed.

Roose pulled back and re-hitched his trousers, with silent efficiency. He studied Reek again for a few seconds. He sat on his knees, skinny arms dangling at his side. He looked back expectantly and Roose laid a hand on his shoulder.

“A maid would have been better, but you will bathe then dine with me. After you will return to my bastard.”

Roose's lips curled downwards briefly at the mention of his son. Reek looked away uncomfortably.

The promise of food was tempting, but Ramsay wouldn’t have his Reek bathed. Roose surely knew that. Yet Reek, did not dare refuse a lord's invitation.


End file.
